"How do you know?"
For his only answer, he opened his cardcase and took out a folded scrap of paper.
"How about this?" he asked, as he handed it to her.
She took it curiously and unfolded it. Then she turned scarlet as she read the four lines written there.
"Dehr Sir
"THis mOney iis to pey to P ay for you r wheel anD yoour docors bill WE are sorrry y u fel loff a and We hooppe you will be butTER sooon A SINCERE FRind"
"I owe you some money," he added, when she had finished reading it. "But what moved you to send it?"
"My conscience. I supposed you were a poor, struggling musician, and I was really afraid you would starve to death if I didn't help you out, so I borrowed Teddy's typewriter and went to work."
"Give it back to me," he commanded; but she was too quick for him, and a dozen scraps of paper fluttered into the fire.
"It's the end of that old story," she announced briefly.